


The Bucket Buffet

by kmandofan90



Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Angst, Battlefield Quickie, Blow Jobs, Bondage, Cream Pie, Exhibitionism, Hunter/Prey Kink, Masturbation, Multi, Nipple Play, Oral Sex, Other, Public Sex, Reader Insert, Smut, Unprotected Sex, Voice Kink, Wax Play, a bit of degradation, sub/dom elements, wearing your Mando's helmet
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-12 22:42:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 17,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29392152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kmandofan90/pseuds/kmandofan90
Summary: All the smutty one-shots I've written as parts of requests and stories on Tumblr. Each chapter has its pairing and rating in the title. Further warnings in the notes.
Relationships: Armorer/Reader, Axe Woves x Reader, Boba Fett/Reader, Captain Rex/Reader, Death Watch Mandalorian x Reader, Din Djarin/Reader, Koska Reeves x Reader, OC x GN!Reader, OC x f!Reader, OC x m!Reader, Paz Vizsla/Reader, bo-katan kryze x reader
Comments: 4
Kudos: 81





	1. Dirty Talk/NC-17/Paz Vizsla x GN!Reader

**Author's Note:**

> **Pairing:** Paz Vizsla x GN!Reader  
>  **Wordcount:** ~1450 (Yes, I went over, but is anyone really going to complain?)  
>  **Rating:** NC-17  
>  **Warnings:** Public sex, lots of dirty talk, creampie, unsafe sex (wrap it up)  
>  **Author’s Note:** Giveaway winnings for @johnc0nstantine, who requested “hella dirty talk”.
> 
> **[Posted on tumblr @anxiety-riddled-mando on 08/24/2020.]**

Paz drags you down a dingy alley, fingers curled around your upper arm. His massive hand shoves you up against a crate roughly, and you arch your back wantonly, eager for your Mandalorian’s touch and he chuckles at your automatic response -

“Look at you, spreading your legs at the slightest provocation. All I have to do is undo my fly and you’re ready to take my cock, mewling like some wanton little harlot – “

– you can’t help but to mewl as his other hand comes to rest on the wall just above your head, his body arching forward and then blinding, _aching_ pressure as he starts to fill you, wrenching a shuddering moan from deep in your throat –

“You like that, huh? Maker, look at how _eager_ you are for this big, hard cock in you – “

\- he pushes in with short, aching thrusts, each one sending a blinding jolt of pleasure into your belly, knees going weak and breath stuttering. He’s fucking _huge_ and _Maker_ , he’s going to split you apart, fuck, fuck, _fuck_ -

“I wish you could see yourself like this, little one, bent over this crate, getting split wide open by my cock – “

– an agonized cry of pleasure escapes you, your last braincell shorting out as his hips meet your backside, your innermost walls straining fiercely to accommodate his cock, _monstrously_ thick and _fuck_ how does it all fit inside you?

“You are always the first to run your fucking mouth, but look at you now, can’t even _talk_ when I’m all the way inside you. You’re just standing there, taking what I give you, babbling and begging for more of my cock inside you – “

– he withdraws just a bit, pausing to let you feel the aching loss before pushing back in. You grind back against him, taking him all the way to the hilt, covering your mouth to muffle your hoarse cry as he brushes up against that spot that makes you see stars -

“Look at you, little one, I’m balls deep inside you and you’re still trying to take more in you, you nasty, filthy little thing. It’s like you can’t _function_ while I’m this far in you, can you? Is my cock that fucking good? Does having me inside you make you stupid?”

– Paz starts to grind against you, his ice-cold cuisses digging into the backs of your thighs, as one of his hands drops to the front of your trousers. His leather-clad fingers find your sex, where he cups and squeezes you, forcing a little whining sob from you, your fingertips digging into the wood at the touch. It’s too much and not enough, as his fingers lightly stroke you _right there_ –

“Oh, yeah, let me feel you squeeze like that again. Let me feel how much you like having me in you, fucking you in an alley where anyone could walk by and see us – “

– he pulls out nearly all the way this time, the head of his cock just resting inside you, and you sob at the loss. He croons in response, and you smack your hand weakly against the rough-hewn wood as your core ignites with pleasure. You can barely breathe, your belly tight and thighs quivering at the lewd situation you are in, oh _Gods_ anyone could see this, see you bent over, legs spread, your Mandalorian railing you and you keen at the thought –

“Fuck, you’re like a vice, little one. Do you like it? Like knowing that anyone could walk by and see me claiming you? Pounding into this sweet, tight little hole of yours? Hear the noises you make when I bottom out inside you – “

– here he gives a potent thrust, one that makes you cry out with wild abandon, your hand falling to the fingers digging into your hip so mercilessly, certain he will leave tiny bruises on you. Paz leans forward, trapping you between him and the crate, his body looming over yours, and he _growls_ –

“I’m starting to think you like it when I have my way with you, little one. You’re not even wearing undergarments. It’s like you wanted this, little one, like you craved it. Having your fucking pants ripped off and being bent over, taking what I want, whenever I want, _wherever_ I want – “

– Paz is so fucking big, both body and cock, and he’s weighing you down, smothering you with his weight and his presence, reminding you that you are _his_ and _only his_ , that your place is _here_ , under him. His pace is _brutal_ now, the sound of his hips smacking against your ass echoing loudly in the alleyway, so loud you’re sure people in the market can hear it –

“Oh _fuck,_ little one, you’re getting close, aren’t you? I-I can feel you squeezing around me, so fucking tight, feel so fucking good – I’m gonna cum in you, little one, ‘m gonna fill you up until it oozes back out, all the way down your thighs – “

– at his words, you start to throb, your breath coming in short pants. He has never finished in you before, he has always pulled out and coated your belly or the backs of your thighs. It has to be a crime, you think, to waste so many loads like that instead of coating your insides in it. But then he reaches up under your shirt and tweaks your nipple, wrenching you from your thoughts and forcing a yelp from you –

“Oh, you like the idea of getting my load inside you, little one? Been daydreaming about me filling you up with my sperm? Oh, you _do_ , don’t you? Fuck, if you keep squeezing that hard, you’re gonna push me back out, and you won’t get the sloppy load I know you’ve been _aching_ for – “

– then he leans back up, one hand at your hip, the other between your shoulders, holding you down under him. You can just see him from the corner of your eye, his head tilted back, light glinting off his visor. And oh gods, his hands feel like iron bands on you, across you, never hurting, always considerate –

“Fu-u-uck you are so good for me. So pliant, so _submissive_. Always let me do whatever the fuck I want to you, always take such good fucking care of me, don’t fucking deserve you, don’t fucking deserve _this_ – “

– you feel yourself starting to tighten up when he hits that one spot deep inside you, the perfect, _perfect_ spot that makes your eyes roll up and your brain go all fuzzy. He presses down a little harder, fingers sinking into your skin as he changes his angle, aiming for that spot with the precision of a seasoned sharpshooter until your breath comes in great, heaving gasps –

“Gonna f-fuck you again when we get back to the ship, gonna have you in the bed, against the wall, _everywhere_. Gonna take my time there, gonna make you come undone over and over again. Going to spend forever like this inside you – “

– then when he moans in your ear, you reach that peak, and fall into the abyss of pleasure. Sharp, tingling, warmth courses through your entire body as you come around him, walls quivering and shaking around his girth. You are only vaguely aware of the sobs escaping you but you’re so far gone you cannot really bring yourself to care. Paz just keeps going, rutting into you, and you start to spiral _again_ –

“Oh, yeah, come for me, little one, come for me. Let me hear your screams, let me _feel_ you come undone around me. Just like that, little one, just like that! Oh, fuck _yes,_ get ready. Get ready, _cyare_ , I’m getting close, I’m gonna fill you up, drain my balls in you – “

– Paz’s hips stutter and he _groans_ , a marvelous, deep noise that sounds like cinnamon-spiced caff and _uj’ayali_ , one that you feel in your belly more than you hear. You can feel liquid warmth filling you and _fuck_ you peak again at the _thought_ of Paz finishing in you, finally giving you’ve always _wanted._

“ – fuck, fuck, _fuck_ – “

As you collapse onto the crate, you feel it starting to seep out from around your joining, thick and hot and slick. Paz pants harshly for a few moments before pulling his hips back, his cock sliding out of you with a wet noise. A torrent of his spend follows as you hastily pull your pants back up to where they belong. You burn with pleasure and mortification as Paz tilts his helmet down at you, unreadable as always. Surreptitiously, you glance at both ends of the alley, but no one is there.

Then he steps forward and gently presses his forehead to yours.

“Don’t get soft on me,” you say, pressing your fingers to his breastplate.

“Don’t worry,” he rasps out. “It’ll be hard again by the time we get back to the ship.”

You smile and shake your head in response. Together, the two of you make your way back to the market.


	2. Torture/NC-17/Paz Vizsla x GN!Reader

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Title:** Torture  
>  **Pairing:** Paz Vizsla x GN!Reader  
>  **Wordcount:** ~1500ish  
>  **Rating:** NC-17 (duh)  
>  **Warnings:** Nipple play, use of melting wax, penetration  
>  **Author’s Note:** Nelba wanted to lather attention on Paz’s gorgeous man tiddies and so here we are. Also, I have never done anything quite like this before, so please forgive me if it sounds off? This is literally new territory for me. Also Paz doesn’t wear his helmet for this, otherwise we wouldn’t know if we’re hurting him the way he likes. 😙
> 
> **[Posted on tumblr @anxiety-riddled-mando on 09/01/2020.]**

Leaning back, you take a moment to admire your handiwork. Paz is stretched out across the bed, wrists tied to the headboard above his head, and a wry smile on his lips. You are perched on his hips, hands on his belly, wearing nothing but a grin for your lover. You scoot forward and start running your hands along his torso, mapping the tiny scars that crisscross his chest, digging your nails into the fine thatch of hair that covers his chest. From there, you skim down the trail leading past his bellybutton, which earns a little huff of amusement from him.

“You promised you wouldn’t tickle me,” he says.

“I’m just touching,” you say. “No tickling.”

His brow quirks up disbelievingly. You redirect your hands up toward his chest and pinch one nipple, grinning as his hips shift impatiently. Then you pinch the other, watching as his belly tightens at your teasing. Stretching out on your lover, you reach for the cup on the side of the bed, and pop a small piece of ice into your mouth. Slow realization seems to dawn on Paz. He lets his head fall back on the pillow.

“ _Cyare_ , perhaps we could skip the foreplay tonight?”

You grin and swallow the melted water in your mouth. Before you can warm back up, you swirl your chilled tongue around his areola, making him hiss at the cold. You move on to the other nipple, watching as both nubs stiffen to little points of granite. Before the chill dies away, you take a big mouthful of hot, spiced tea, and move in to repeat yourself. Paz hisses at the sharp contrast in temperature.

“Did you like that?” you ask.

“Contrast isn’t really my thing,” he says. “Something else?”

“We’ll move on, my sweet, impatient hunter,” you respond. “What would you like?”

“Sex, maybe?” he asks, wriggling his hips up against your backside.

“Nope, I bought lots and lots of toys to use on you,” you tell him. “I want to try a few of them before I let you come.”

You reach into the box of toys at your side and pull out the nipple clamps. His eyes go wide at the metal contraption in your hands.

“You’re kidding, right?”

You shake your head at him. Then you lean up and suck one little nub into your mouth, flicking your tongue against it, and his protests die away with a soft groan.

“You were saying?” you ask, tilting your head curiously at him, a smile playing at your lips.

He huffs but does not protest. You reach up and place the cold piece of metal onto his nipples, adjusting the screws until the bars are _just_ tight enough to stay on. Then you dip your head down and trace your tongue along the shiny pink scar that cuts across his chest. Predictably, Paz squirms as your tongue rasps against the still-sensitive skin. When he relaxes, you tighten the clamps a quarter of a turn, smirking at the hiss he lets out in exchange.

“Now that I have you all helpless and stretched out under me,” you murmur, watching as his chest heaves. “What shall I do with you, my warrior?”

Paz swallows visibly. With a grin, you continue your exploration of his torso. Paz is big and broad, with a soft layer over the muscle, like velvet on iron cord, skin dewy with perspiration. As he shifts, the headboard creaks, and you nip his pectoral in warning. The only response you get is a low, barely audible growl.

“You break my headboard again and I will be _very_ upset with you,” you warn Paz.

“Not my fault you bought a cheap bed,” he mutters.

When he stops grumbling, you turn back to his chest. Leaning down, you continue biting him, dotting his skin with patches of saliva and little marks, ignoring him as he grinds his cock wantonly against your ass. Occasionally, you reach up to twist the clamps down a little tighter, forcing more and more blood out of the sensitive tissue. Paz groans as you shift over his cock and then start to grind up against him, trapping his throbbing length between your sweat-slick bodies.

“Can you untie me now, please?” he pants out, eyes hazy with desire.

The desire he holds for you sends searing heat straight into your core. Rather than indulge him, you choose to continue playing with him. To make this proud warrior _beg_ for relief from your pleasurable torture.

“Sorry, _cyare_ , I’m not finished torturing you yet,” you whisper. “I have something _much_ nicer than the nipple clamps in mind for you, if you can wait for me?”

The whine he lets out makes you _shiver_ with dark pleasure. He has never let you tie him up before, to take full control during sex, so this is new for the two of you. And you certainly enjoy this a lot more than you ever expected. You give him one more grind before you go still on his hips, giving him a moment to catch his breath. Paz swallows as he gazes up at you, eyes filled with plaintive longing. But he knows better than to push you while you are in control. He nods his consent for you to continue.

Once he is squirming, you release the clamps in one smooth move, allowing blood to flood his sensitive tissue. Paz hisses at the sudden pleasure and pain, his entire body going stiff. You lean forward and suck one into his mouth, and he groans, hips jerking up hard enough to knock you forward.

“FUCK – “

You swirl your tongue around his areola, allowing your hot breath to spill across his sensitized nerves. He grunts again as you mirror the gesture on the other nipple, reaching up to flick at him with your fingers. His breath stutters as you pinch the other. Smiling, you bite down gently, pinching the other nipple harshly between your fingers. Paz’s back nearly lifts off the bed in response, another whine escaping him.

“ _Cyare_ , you’re going to kill me,” he manages to say.

You laugh at the same time that you reach for the candle. Paz swears when he sees it. He know _exactly_ what you are going to do with it. It is vegetable-based, so it melts at a much lower temperature than other candles. You balance the little glass jar on his belly and light it carefully, waiting until you have a tiny puddle of melted wax in the bottom before lifting it up. Paz watches with hooded eyes, belly taut and quivering in anticipation, as you tilt the jar. The first few drops pour out of the spout and drip directly onto his belly. He flinches just a bit.

“Want it from higher up?” you ask.

“No, closer,” he says. “Want it hotter. Like the way it hurts. _Really_ like it.”

You grin at him and oblige him, holding the pot closer to his body. Paz’s entire body tightens as you work your way up along that delectable trail on his belly, his hips undulating under you. Then under each pectoral, covering him in a fine splatter of cool, dried wax. He relaxes, eyes closing, relishing in the hot little drips of sweet pain. As you get closer and closer to his nipples, you shorten the distance between the jar and his skin, earning soft grunts and sighs of pleasure.

Finally, his nipples are the last parts of him that are not drenched in a soft, warm layer of wax, so you decide to take mercy on your lover. Reaching down with your free hand, you angle his cock into your channel, and sink down, taking him in one thrust. At the same time, you pour a generous amount of liquid wax on his nipple. Paz swears violently, his entire body tensing up underneath yours, so tight you fear he will break. Quickly, you pour more onto his other nipple and squeeze tightly around his cock, giving him just a hint of what he can expect later. He _howls_ , a surprising noise that you’ve never managed to get out of him before. It brings a feral grin of smug delight to your lips. Oh, you are going to continue exploring this in the future.

“Fuck,” he sputters out hoarsely, chest heaving. You shift on his cock and he slides out. Moments later, a wet rush follows, sticky and warm. Lifting a brow down at him, he grins. “Was really good,” he says with a tired grin. “ _Real_ fucking good.”

“Maybe I’ll use the higher temperature stuff next time,” you remark casually, sitting back on the puddle of spend on his pubes. Paz shivers.

“Don’t think I’ll survive,” he remarks.

You reach up and undo his bindings. He can take care of you later. For now, you will let him rest. You have plans for him later.


	3. Voice Kink, Masturbation/NC-17/Din Djarin x GN!Reader

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Pairing:** Din Djarin x GN!Reader  
>  **Wordcount:** ~700  
>  **Rating: NC-17  
>  **Warnings:** Voice kink, masturbation**
> 
> ****[Originally posted on tumblr @anxiety-riddled-mando on 12/06/2020.]** **

Din doesn’t talk much. You aren’t sure if he’s shy or socially awkward, but you don’t press. He makes conversation when he wants to, and that’s all that matters. So, one day, while it’s snowing heavily outside, and there’s nothing better to do, you invite him to blow off some steam with you. (You are genuinely surprised when Din accepts your proposition.)

Five minutes later, he’s got you up against the wall, blindfold around your head and his mouth kissing and biting a tingling path along the back of your neck.

“How do you want it?” he growls into your ear, his hands like iron bands around your hips as he holds you steady up against the wall. It takes a second before you realize why his voice sounds so different. His helmet is off, no vocalizer to strip away the intoxicating warmth of his voice. Din is thick and sweet as honey, raspy like whiskey. “Do you want me to take my time? Or do you want it hard and fast, _ner cyar'ika_?”

“I-I don’t care what you do,” you pant at him. “Just keep talking, please just keep talking, Din, please – “

He laughs into your neck as he kisses you, hands sliding around to your front. He cups you through the fabric of your garments, using just the right amount of pressure to make you moan. He bites down on your earlobe, pressing his breastplate right up against your back. You can feel the cold through the thin material of your shirt, your nipples puckering in response.

“Do you like the sound of my voice?” he croons, hand massaging firmly, quickly and steadily working you closer and closer to the edge.

He doesn’t have much work to do – you’ve been on the edge for _days_ now, so aroused that your own hand can no longer bring you relief. His teeth dig into your earlobe as he nips, hand squeezing you firmly through the fabric.

“Do you like knowing my helmet is off?” Your whine makes him laugh quietly, a rough noise that leaves you trembling and aching. He grinds up against you, letting you feel his throbbing length against your backside.

“Feel that?” he asks. “Feel what you do to me, _cyar’ika_? You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to have you like this – “ His fingers find a steady, firm rhythm, sending little bolts of pleasure arcing up your spine. “ – writhing, begging, and moaning? If I had known that all it took to get you off was the sound of my voice, I would have done this sooner.” You grind back against his length, a low moan spilling out from between your lips.

“I bet you’re getting real close,” he growls, forcing a squeak out of you. “I bet you’re going to make some really pretty noises when you do come for me.” He buries his nose into your neck and inhales, taking in the scent of your skin. “Just like that, _cyar’ika_.” His hand keeps working between your legs, the other clamped tightly around your middle. Your own hands fall to his bracer and squeeze, each swipe of his fingers driving you closer and closer to that edge.

“When you come for me, I’m going to get these clothes right off you,” he whispers, breath tickling your ear. “Then I’m going to bend you over and slide my cock right into your tight – “ The thought of having him in you breaks you and you come, a noise somewhere between a wail and a groan escaping you. He holds you throughout it all, body pressed firmly up against yours as he continues whispering into your ear. At long last, you relax, legs quivering, as Din holds you up against the wall.

“Let’s get you in bed so I can see the mess you made for me,” Din whispers, kissing the side of your neck.


	4. First Kisses/PG-13/Paz Vizsla x GN!Reader

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Pairing:** Paz Vizsla x GN!Reader  
>  **Wordcount:** ~800  
>  **Rating: PG-13  
>  **Warnings:** First kisses, mostly sweet**
> 
> ****[Originally posted on tumblr @anxiety-riddled-mando on 12/06/2020.]** **

Paz Vizsla is fucking huge. He towers over everyone else in the Tribe. He’s so tall, in fact, that when people go out to the market, everyone just looks for him and congregates near him when it comes time to regroup. This is something he has learned to accept. His sheer bulk is enough to keep most people at a respectful distance. These two factors, combined with his years of experience and his skills with weapons, have made him a little…well, _arrogant_. There aren’t a lot of people who are willing to pick a fight with him, so when you take him up on his offer to spar, he finds himself surprised and pleased.

He’s seen you in action and he doesn’t think you’ll last long, but you very quickly put that notion to rest. Where he is strong, you are fast. Most people focus on trying to keep him at bay long enough to wear him out, so he is used to that tactic. You explode toward him aggressively, dodging his first few swipes with ease. When you realize that he’s completely off-balance, you push forward aggressively, _jumping_ at him so hard he trips over his own feet and goes down in a heap of _beskar’gam_ and tangled limbs.

You pin him so quickly he doesn’t have time to think. And Maker above, that turns Paz _on_ , in ways he cannot even begin to describe. And when you sit back to relish in your victory, you end up feeling how turned on he is, even with his codpiece in the way. His hands fall to your hips and squeeze, letting you know _it’s okay_. As you grind up against the bulge of metal, his breathing quickens and his heart begins to thunder in his chest.

“You win,” he rumbles at you.

“What do I win?” you ask in a suggestive tone.

He growls, rolling his hips up against yours.

“What do you want?” he asks. “My cock?”

You tilt your head to the side.

“…what if I want your mouth?” you whisper.

Those words are like cold water and he goes still.

“…my mouth?” he repeats.

“I’m sorry,” you say, “That was a dumb question. I thought…if I had a blindfold, you might be able to…”

He lifts one hand.

“How do you want my mouth?” he asks slowly.

“I want a kiss,” you say, looking away from him. “I’ve never…uh…been kissed before…”

Paz considers your words. So, he reaches up and pulls you down onto his chest, hand skimming over your backside down to your thigh. You respond by tracing your palm over his chest plate, your fingers touching the scars he’s earned in combat. Your fingers then trace up to the latching mechanism. Then further up. He can feel the pressure of your fingers through his cowl. He has never let anyone touch him like this, especially this close to his helmet.

But he likes you. There aren’t many people who can best him in hand-to-hand combat. You’re honest, eager to please, and kind. So he thinks he can kiss you. His heart pounds in his chest. He doesn’t think he’s been this nervous about anything in decades. You lean down, pressing the bottom edge of your helmet to his.

“Close your eyes,” he whispers.

“You too, okay?” you ask breathlessly.

“One, two, three,” he counts.

And then you lift your helmets simultaneously, closing your eyes. Your lips are soft, dry, and a little chapped. You accidentally get him in the chin. Then the cheek as you both blindly try to find each other’s mouth. It takes a few moments, but when he presses his lips to yours that first time, it sends an electric jolt down his spine all the way into the pit of his belly. It’s a bit awkward. Paz is pretty sure your teeth aren’t supposed to clack against his like that. And he does apologize for biting your lip. He is not sure how long the two of you lay on the floor, just kissing each other, but his neck aches by time you two pull your helmets down.

“That was nice,” you admit shyly.

He nods in agreement.

“It was,” he says.

You rest your elbow on his chest plate and prop your chin up on your hand.

“If you want to kiss again,” you suggest.

“I’ll kick your ass next time,” he says, patting your ass.

“I don’t doubt you will,” you respond with a little laugh.

As you roll off him, Paz finds that he misses your weight across his body. As he gets up, he decides he’ll just need to spar more often with you. For training purposes, of course. Not because he wants to steal kisses from you.


	5. Exhibitionism/NC-17/Boba Fett x GN!Reader

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Pairing:** Boba Fett x GN!Reader  
>  **Wordcount:** ~500  
>  **Rating: NC-17  
>  **Warnings:** Public blowjob, a bit of degradation**
> 
> ****[Originally posted on tumblr @anxiety-riddled-mando on 12/06/2020.]** **

Boba Fett is not one to fuck around. When he wants something, he’s going to let you know. And right now, Boba wants his cock in you. Part of you is indignant at the idea of blowing him while he’s negotiating with someone, but another part of you _wants_ to do it. That part of you wants to let all the lechers here to know that you belong to the cranky fucker in green armor. So when he grabs your hand and places it on his rock-hard shaft, you shoot him an indignant look, but oblige him, reaching over to undo the fastenings on his trousers.

Vaguely, you can see the people he’s negotiating with shoot each other incredulous looks as you slide under the table, taking his cape with you. If you’re going to be sucking his cock in this seedy bar, you are _not_ going to risk contracting some nasty disease from the sticky floors. His knees spread as you get him out of his underpants, your mouth watering at the sight of his thick shaft. The head is dark with arousal, a droplet of precum already glimmering in the darkness.

His voice remains steady even as you part your lips around him, your eyes drifting shut at the taste of him. Warm, salty, slightly bitter. He’s more than a mouthful, so you wrap your hand around what doesn’t fit in your mouth, stroking firmly as you bob your head on his length. Each time, you take him a little deeper, until he finally brushes up against the back of your throat. His head falls onto your head, fingers tangling in your hair. He tugs firmly to guide your pace and you grimace at the stinging of your scalp.

His next thrust makes you gag and your eyes start to water a bit. His huff of laughter is just barely audible. To his credit, he takes it a little slower. But only a little. As he gets closer, you go slack in his grip. You close your eyes and try to avoid thinking about the ache in your jaw. Then he pulls you off his cock, his other hand taking your place. “Boba, what – “ you ask hoarsely.

Before you can finish your question, he comes, coating your jaw, neck, and chest in thick ropes of his spend. He squeezes the last few drops out on his fingers before wiping them on your cheek. You stare at him incredulously as he tucks himself away.

“Get up,” he says. You obey, but you leave his cloak in the sticky puddle on the floor. One of Boba’s associates looks mortified. The other two look indifferent. The last one just grins at you. He speaks up, “How much for you to crawl over here and – “

Without speaking a word, Boba lifts his blaster and shoots a single warning shot, missing his ear by mere centimeters. “Finish that sentence and I’ll put the next round between your eyes,” he says flatly. Well, at least he cares. Somewhat.


	6. Bondage/NC-17/Armorer x GN!Reader

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Pairing:** Armorer x GN!Reader  
>  **Wordcount:** ~850  
>  **Rating:** NC-17 (duh)  
>  **Warnings:** Bondage, light impact play, hunter/prey kink, her panties go in your mouth  
>  **Author’s Notes: **Armorer uses a riding crop, but she does not use it to the point of bruising.****
> 
> ******[Posted on tumblr @anxiety-riddled-mando on 12/06/2020.]** ** **

Armorer isn’t one to play games, so as soon as she takes an interest in you, she makes her intentions clear – she finds you attractive and she wants to explore the possibility of something long term with you. Soon though, you learn that Armorer’s tastes are less than vanilla. Her favorite method of relaxation involves a lot of silky-soft red rope and a spreader bar.

Today, you’ve managed to _really_ piss her off, which means that she’s got you against the wall, wrists tethered to a hook over your head. As you stand there, squirming against the cold, rough stone, she kneels on the ground, tapping your knee with her crop.

“Spread your legs for me, dear,” she says casually. As you obey, she straps one ankle into the fur-lined leather cuff. Then the other. “There we are,” she says with a satisfied noise. “Immobilized with no way to escape your punishment.”

The mere mention of punishment has your heart _racing_. When she brings out the blindfold, you know she’s going to take her time.

Armorer walks to the table, footsteps fading ever so slightly. You hear soft metallic noises as she takes off her armor. The jingle of her belt buckle as she removes her gear. Each tiny sound has your heart jumping in your chest, the anticipation building to a feverish pitch as she purposefully keeps you on that edge. Then nothing. Complete silence. But you _feel_ her coming toward you, a hot, heavy presence that makes your knees quake.

“Open your mouth,” she says, her voice softer and somehow harder now that her helmet is off. Without her vocalizer modulating her tone, you can finally place her accent – she’s native Concordian, somewhere on the northern hemisphere. “Open,” she says firmly, and you hastily obey.

She stuffs a wad of cloth in your mouth. The silky material is oddly warm with an odd texture.

“Those were expensive,” she purrs. “Ruin them and I’ll make your life hell. Are we clear, darling?” Your breath hitches in your throat when you realize you really do have her lacy underthings in your _mouth_. You nod, trying to choke out a ‘yes, ma’am’ around the fabric in your mouth. You hear a quiet _fwip_ as she smacks the crop into the palm of her hand, and you can’t help your little flinch.

“Look at you, _kanina_ ,” she says, voice growing louder as she comes close enough for you to feel the heat radiating off her skin. “Quivering. Shaking. _Trembling._ ” She punctuates each word with a tap of her leather riding crop against the sensitive flesh of your inner thigh. “Just like a little rabbit who has seen the hawk’s shadow.” She traces your sex lightly and you can’t help but to arch your back, seeking out that delicious friction against your buzzing nerves.

“Do you wish to feel the sting of my claws in you?” Whimpering, you nod, unable to stop yourself. She rewards you with a sharp smack to your inner thigh. Then another. And another, carefully maintaining a rhythmic pace as she draws out that agonizing pleasure. Hazily, you realize it’s the pace she keeps when she is working in the foundry. This time, her hammer is the riding crop, and her medium is your tender flesh.

“Do you wish to feel the pain as I devour you?” she whispers, so close you can feel her breath against your neck. You nod, your arms aching and your legs shaking violently. She chortles and kisses your shoulder, tracing a slow, burning hot path up to your neck. “I can feel your heartbeat against my lips,” she murmurs. “Is it your fear? Or is it your arousal?” You _whine_ as she pulls her panties back out of your mouth. Hard fingers clamp around your jaw and tilt your face toward hers. You know she is admiring the way your tears have saturated the silk around your eyes.

“Do you tire of me playing with you, _kanina_?” she asks. “Do you wish me to deliver the final merciful blow?” You can’t even _speak_. You nod, a piteous noise escaping you as her lips find your jaw. Then your mouth. She kisses you, long and slow as her tongue plunders your mouth. She tastes sweet and metallic and like something unique to her. It’s the first time she has _ever_ kissed you, and the sensation of her teeth nibbling along your lower lip brings you to the edge instantaneously. Then her hand cups your sex and you shatter into a million tiny shards, body convulsing as you come.

She keeps her mouth slanted over yours as you cry out, more tears spilling out to further saturate the silk blindfold. She stays there, pressed up against you, helping take the strain off your arms. You can’t help the whine that escapes as her lips leave yours. Her fingers shift against your sex and you twitch, your body overstimulated and prickly-hot. She presses a kiss to your cheek. “There we are,” she says. “Now, I think it’s time for your reward.”


	7. Battlefield Quickie/NC-17/Captain Rex x GN!Reader

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Pairing:** Captain Rex x GN!Reader  
>  **Wordcount:** ~600  
>  **Rating:** NC-17 (duh)  
>  **Warnings:** Battlefield quickie, rough, doggy, unprotected sex  
>  **Author’s Notes:**
> 
> **  
> **  
> **[Posted on tumblr @anxiety-riddled-mando on 12/06/2020.]**  
>  **  
>  **

Captain Rex spends the majority of his time looking after the troops under his command. He rarely has time to decompress and unwind, so when he has the opportunity to do so, he leaps at it. Which is why when there’s a lull in this particular fight, he gives you a long look, one you can feel from under his helmet. You return the look, resting your chin in your hand. The two of you have taken cover in a narrow crevasse to wait for your orders. His hands fall to your hips and he pulls you toward him.

“Rex,” you hiss in response. “Are you out of your mind?” He shrugs a little.

“Maybe,” he says. “But we’ve got half an hour, you know.”

Well, when he puts it like that…you find your resolve slipping. Then he nudges his helmet up and his lips find your neck. Then his teeth dig in and your resolve shatters. Shucking off your robe, you fold it into a sort-of cushion for your knees.

“If anyone finds out about this,” you warn, and he laughs.

“I’ll shoot ‘em myself,” he assures. You shake your head and set your blaster down – within reach, but not in any danger of accidentally being discharged. Rex’s hands find your waist before sliding up to your chest, where he pinches your nipple. He laughs at the noise you make. The two of you shift around a bit, with you on your hands and knees and him behind you. He kneads his hands along your hips as you grind back against him. It does _not_ take long before your gloved fingers are digging long trenches into the dirt underneath you.

Once you’ve both managed to get your garments out of the way, Rex starts to grind up against you, letting you feel every glorious inch of his cock. Biting down on your lower lip, you can’t help the little moan that escapes you. Then he starts to push in, and you go brain dead as he stretches your walls around his length. Rex pulls back on your hips, seating himself all the way in firmly, forcing a moan between your lips. He gives you just a few moments to adjust before he starts rolling his hips against yours.

There’s something about just being _taken_ like this, face down, fingers digging into the dirt. Rex’s balls slapping against your thigh with each thrust, the way his fingers have become little pinpricks of pain in your flesh. The soft smacking of his hips against your ass, his grunts barely audible as the sounds of combat rage outside. It sends a primal little thrill straight into your belly. Rex pushes down between your shoulders and you oblige him, arching your back to let him in a little deeper. He _moans_ , fingers digging into you even tighter, pace nearly brutal by now.

Biting down on your lip, you smother your moan as you come. Rex follows, but he doesn’t bother trying to quiet his pleasure.

 _“FUCK!”_ he bellows, his body curling forward over yours.

He groans into your neck, grinding up against you a few times to draw out his orgasm. A shadow falls across the mouth of the crevasse. Looking up, you see a glint of bronze metal. Grabbing your blaster, you shoot the droid before it can speak. Rex curses and pulls out roughly. Once he has tucked himself away, he hurtles over you as you try to pull your undergarments up, providing you with cover. Without looking back at you, Rex speaks, “We should do that again.” You can only respond with a sigh. Of _course_ he would want to go through that again.


	8. Hunter & Prey/NC-17/DW Mandalorian x GN!Reader

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Pairing:** DW Mandalorian x GN!Reader, Death Watch Mandalorian x GN!Reader  
>  **Wordcount:** ~1100  
>  **Rating:** NC-17  
>  **Warnings:** Hunter & prey kink, a bit of a voice kink, you put on his helmet  
>  **Author’s Notes:** DW Mando can be read as is or as my OC, Mar Vizsla, either way is fine.
> 
> **[Posted on tumblr @anxiety-riddled-mando on 12/06/2020.]**

Mando isn’t shy by any stretch of the imagination. He does, however, prefer to watch until he gets a good grasp on what is going on, so he might come off as shy for a little while he gathers information. This man has laid on his belly for days at a time, waiting for the perfect moment to take a shot. He is _patient_. He will wait as long as it takes to get what he wants.

He has his plan of attack ready before you even know he wants you. As soon as you show any interest in his advances, he starts his careful courtship, slowly working you until he has you where he wants. He builds the anticipation carefully, never pushing too far, keeping you on that edge. As soon as he senses your defenses are crumbling, that your complete surrender is imminent, he will move in to claim his victory.

Mando has you in the cockpit of his ship right now, drifting between jobs, stars glimmering in the backdrop of inky-black space. The deep timbre of his voice has had you squirming for hours now. And he loves the sight – he likes seeing you turn into a mess with just the sound of his voice, with the occasional brush of his hand against your shoulder.

You’re trying so, _so_ hard to keep your composure, but this is a game he’s been playing his entire life. With every quick flick of your eyes in his direction, with every shaking breath you take, with every minute tremble of your fingers – he _knows_. He is Mandalorian, and this is his favorite kind of hunt.

When you excuse yourself to the refresher, he knows you have reached your limits. When you come back, he is waiting for you, body half-hidden in the shadows, helmet placed on the console. He knows when you’ve seen his helmet – you come to a grinding halt, foot still hovering over the ground, brow furrowed with confusion. He reaches for you, pulling you into the shadowy corner, smirking at the inelegant noise you let you.

“M-Mando?” you squeak out, but he cuts that response off, pressing his lips to yours.

He swallows your sound of surprise, hand falling to your ass to squeeze. Mando has always enjoyed those little brushes of his hands against you, but this…having you in his hands and being able to squeeze you wherever he wants? It’s pure fucking bliss for him. When you respond to his kiss, he steps forward, sandwiching you between his body and the wall, letting you feel every bit of his muscular frame against his. As he deepens the kiss, he feels you melt in his arms, and he knows you are _his_. He gets your shirt open and can barely bite back his moan of pleasure as he finally feels your bare skin against his. When he breaks away from you, he gives you a minute to catch your breath.

“Would you like to continue this?” he asks softly, tilting your face up to his. He watches you carefully, looking for _any_ sign of unwillingness, but he finds none.

“Absolutely,” you breathe, and he’s comfortable continuing.

He works your clothes off until you’re absolutely naked. He wants to get down on his knees and worship you, but his cock is hard and he wants some measure of relief for himself as well. Carefully, he maneuvers you toward the chair, keeping you facing away from him so you cannot see his face. He lowers himself into the seat. Immediately, you know what he wants, and you settle in his lap, facing the console. Mando holds himself steady, one hand squeezing your hip, and you lower yourself onto him. Mando curses under his breath as your body slowly takes him in.

He keeps his hand at your hip to keep you from moving. When you reach for his helmet, he freezes. You pick it up, turning it over in your hands, your fingers carefully avoiding the glass visor. Then you put it on and his plans to have you sit on his cock for the next hour or so are dashed to bits. Mando loses every bit of control he has over himself at the sight of you in his helmet. He lifts you off him, ignoring your mewl of complaint, and shoves you down onto the pile of clothes on the ground. You grab his helmet, trying to keep it on your head, as his hands roughly part your thighs. Then he pushes into you, watching as your body shakes with the force of each of his thrusts. He almost comes on the spot when he hears your voice from the modulator.

“I thought you might like seeing me in your helmet,” you say. “Wearing _armor_ , just like you. Have you been fantasizing about that, Mando?”

He’d be a fucking liar if he said no, so he settles for a grunt, hoping that you understand. Fortunately, you do, and you arch your back, welcoming him deeper inside you.

“I should put all your armor on,” you say through your pants as he fucks into you, “Maybe I could be the hunter and you could be the prey, hmm?”

Mando just barely manages to keep himself from coming then and there. He reaches down, fingers finding that spot that makes your back arch even further and your toes curl.

The bare metal floor digs into his knees, and it can’t feel good on your back, but neither of you care. It’s fast and rushed, but he can’t stop himself, not while you look so fucking good in his armor, legs spread wide open, his cock disappearing inside you. When your back arches, a choked noise escaping you, he feels your walls squeezing around his length. He rests his weight on his hands, hips grinding against yours urgently as he seeks his own orgasm. You feel so, so good around him, so welcoming and pliant and he’s so _close_ –

“Come for me, Mando,” you whisper, and he is fucking _done_. He obeys, a growl escaping him as he finishes. Once he can think, he flops onto the ground next to you, hissing at the cold metal against his back. Lazily, you tuck yourself against him, still wearing his helmet.

“Next time, I want to wear all your armor,” you say drowsily, “I can pretend to be you.” He can’t help the laugh that escapes him. “All will tremble in fear before you,” he responds, wrapping his arm around you at your snort.


	9. Dom & Sub/NC-17/Bo-Katan Kryze x GN!Reader

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Pairing:** Bo-Katan Kryze x GN!Reader  
>  **Wordcount:** ~700  
>  **Rating:** NC-17  
>  **Warnings:** Dom/sub elements, oral (Bo-Katan receiving)  
>  **Author’s Notes:** None.
> 
> **[Posted on tumblr @anxiety-riddled-mando on 12/06/2020.]**

Bo-Katan is the equivalent of Mandalorian royalty. As a leader and warrior, she is used to being treated with a certain amount of respect by others. So, when she grants you the privilege of kneeling at her feet, she gives you her short list of rules, making it clear that punishment will be swift and severe if she has to repeat herself.

“I am to be addressed as ‘Lady Kryze’,” she says, as she circles around you, the creaking of her leather boots barely audible over the thudding of your heart. “You will remain on your knees, silent, and unmoving unless I tell you otherwise. Do you think you can manage to follow these rules?”

Part of you wants to answer, but the other part of you remembers her order to _remain silent._ You look up at her, eyes wide and questioning, and she laughs, low and rich.

“If I ask you a question, you may answer,” she says, pressing her fingers against your cheek lightly.

“Yes, Lady Kryze,” you whisper, and she smiles.

She circles around you again, so you do your best to keep your eyes trained on the far wall. Lady Bo-Katan comes closer, and you can smell the sweet woody oil she uses to condition her leather gloves. Then slowly, she lifts one foot up and places the sole of her boot directly onto your thigh. You almost reach up to start removing it, but her threat hangs heavy in your ears, and you just barely catch yourself.

“Undo the laces,” she murmurs.

“Yes, Lady Kryze,” you whisper.

There is something oddly erotic about being in this position, you think. You don’t have to think – all you have to do is obey, obey and please your Lady. Once the laces are undone, you help her remove her boot, a tendril of heat filling your belly at her hum of pleasure.

Her other boot comes off the same way, followed by her belt and her holsters. Then she comes to a halt in front of you, a smirk on her lips.

“Remove my trousers,” she orders softly, and you obey, unbuttoning the fastenings and working the fabric down over her hips.

She kicks the pants away, legs slightly spread, a smirk spreading across her lips at the hungry look on your face.

“Would you like to have a taste?” she asks huskily.

“Yes, Lady Kryze,” you respond immediately. “ _Please_.”

She leans against the edge of the table, knees parted, and crooks a finger at you.

“Come, then,” she says. “Let me reward you.”

You crawl to her, arching your back exaggeratedly, watching as her eyes go all dark at your little wanton display. Biting down on your lower lip, you settle at her feet, peeking up at her.

“What are you waiting for?” she asks, “I said you could have a taste.”

And with that invitation, you dive in, nibbling your way up one thigh and tasting the salt of her skin. With each quiet, appreciative sigh that she lets out, you feel that heat tightening and sharpening in your belly. When you finally work your way up to her cunt, you’re squirming, mouth watering in anticipation. Then you close your eyes and drag your tongue against her, moaning when she _finally_ spreads across your tongue, filling your mouth.

Her hand falls to your head, pulling you in tighter, burying your nose into her curls as you continue lapping at her, greedily drinking her essence up. As you suck her clit between your lips, her breath hitches in her throat, a shuddering sigh escaping her. You know she’s close when she starts to grind up against your face, moans growing louder, until she finally whispers your name.

You place one gentle kiss up against her swollen clit and draw back, face covered in her slick, and she tilts her head down at you, her cheeks pink with pleasure.

“Go get in bed,” she says. “I am certain I can come up with other ways to occupy your mouth.”

“Yes, Lady Kryze,” you respond demurely, and you obey, crawling to the bed on all fours.


	10. Public(ish) Sex/NC-17/Axe Woves x GN!Reader

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Pairing:** Axe Woves x GN!Reader  
>  **Wordcount:** ~850  
>  **Rating:** NC-17  
>  **Warnings:** Public(ish) sex, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, Koska makes fun of Axe  
>  **Author’s Notes:** One bad pun.
> 
> **[Posted on tumblr @anxiety-riddled-mando on 12/06/2020.]**

Axe is not shy. He is outgoing and extremely confident in his skills as a hunter – after all, Bo-Katan would not have personally selected him to be part of her team if he wasn’t good at what he does. Some may even classify him as cocky. But even if they do, he has the experience and skill to back up his claims. One day, after several months of radio silence, he sends you a message, asking to you to come meet him and his friends for drinks. The ‘bar’ ends up being a cargo hold full of Mandalorians who all stare at your _aruetii_ ass when you walk up the ramp.

“Look at you,” you say with a grin. “A real pain in the Axe, huh?”

He grimaces in response, making everyone else laugh. Your horrible joke seems to break the ice and the tension leaves the room. Axe gets to his feet and pulls you in for a hug, his hand settling low around your waist. Almost possessively.

“Mind your hands, lecher,” you say casually, but you make no move to let go of him.

You enjoy the solid weight of his arm around your waist, even if he’s pulling you too close against his body for it to be just a friendly embrace.

“Drinks in the cooler, snacks on the card table,” he says.

It’s kind of weird, being the only person not in armor here, but you’re determine to make a good impression. So, you grab some snacks, a drink, and come back to the table to find an open seat. Axe grins up at you, patting his lap.

“Last seat in the house,” he says.

With a roll of your eyes, you settle on him, _trying_ to ignore the little growl of pleasure he lets out as you settle into place, tucked against his shoulder with his arm around you. (Secretly, he _cannot_ believe that actually worked.) As the conversations resume, you nibble at the plate of spicy finger food and listen, occasionally offering your opinion when appropriate. Most of the time, you share something embarrassing about Axe (like that one time he tripped over a loth cat and went head-first into a wall, hitting it so hard he broke a chunk of plaster off.)

Then you notice something strange. The woman across the table – Koska, you think? – has a predatory grin on her face as she stares at Axe. He’s stiff as a board under you and you wonder why until you feel something under you. Something that _isn’t_ one of his leg armor thingies.

You can’t help your grin. Koska’s eyes flick at you, so you lean forward to grab a handful of way-too-spicy chips, grinding down against that generous bulge under you. You hear the quietest inhalation from Axe and you grin, stuffing one of the chips into your mouth.

When you’re good and wound up, you head to the refresher, knowing that he will follow. As you lean toward the mirror to wipe a fleck of dust off your face, Axe shuffles in after you, shutting the door with a quiet click. Smiling at him over your shoulder, you shift your clothing around so he can fuck you.

Axe doesn’t hesitate – locking eyes with you in the mirror, he pushes in with one deep, satisfying thrust, hand covering your mouth to smother your moan. Leaning forward, you arch your back, letting him get nice and deep on his next thrust. Axe sighs softly, one hand between your shoulders and the other at your hip. It has to be quick, so he maintains a firm, deep pace inside you, cock hitting every single one of those achy, needy spots inside you.

“Bet you like this,” he whispers to you. “Getting bent over the counter, my cock buried in you to the hilt.”

You roll your eyes a bit and reach down between your legs, your fingers working their way into your undergarments to help speed things up.

“Bet you like knowing everyone outside knows we’re fucking in here,” he continues. “Knowing they’re jealous that I’ve got _you_ wrapped around me. Fuck, you feel so damn good like this.” He lets out a soft groan as you squeeze around him. “Yeah, just like that,” he rumbles. “Can I finish in you – ?”

You nod, biting down on your lip as he starts hitting that spot inside you that makes you see stars. He grunts and you shoot him a warning look, but he’s too far gone to care, pace growing deeper and faster. With another squeeze of your fingers, you’re coming, falling into that pit of blissful molten heat. Vaguely, you hear his moan, a very audible “fuck _yes_ ” as he grinds into you, filling you with his spend. He rests inside you for a few moments before pulling out.

After getting yourselves arranged decently, the two of you return to the cargo hold. Everyone politely avoids looking at you, but Koska decides to announce your return.

“Let us make a toast to Axe,” Koska says with a shark-like grin, lifting a massive tankard of ale in his direction. “My brother and comrade-in-arms…and the _quickest_ sharpshooter in the parsec.” You choke on your drink at the indignant look on Axe’s face.


	11. Oral/NC-17/Koska Reeves x GN!Reader

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Pairing:** Koska Reeves x GN!Reader  
>  **Wordcount:** ~750  
>  **Rating:** NC-17  
>  **Warnings:** Oral, masturbation, sweet.  
>  **Author’s Notes:** None.
> 
> **[Posted on tumblr @anxiety-riddled-mando on 12/06/2020.]**

Koska is easy enough to please when it comes to sex. She doesn’t care when, where, or how – all she wants is to feel your skin against hers. The time you have together is limited, but the two of you make it work. She’s sent a message ahead, telling you that she’ll be yours for the next thirty-four hours, so you clean up your house, order her favorite foods, and clear your social calendar.

As soon as she gets there, you lock the door and wrap your arms around her. You do not give a single fuck if she’s been in armor for the better part of a week – you just hold her, pressing your body up against hers, ignoring the grime on her plating. It’s clear that she’s been in a massive fight, so before she can even speak, you lead her upstairs to your bathroom, where you have a hot bath waiting for her.

“Oh, gods,” she says, taking her helmet off. “Oh, what did I do to deserve you?”

You grin up at her and press a kiss to her lips.

“Shower first,” you say. “Then we can have a bath.”

She returns the grin before stripping down, stacking her armor on the counter. While she’s in the shower, you pull up a chair and start cleaning her armor off. You use the cleaning solution you keep under the counter for her sporadic visits. You’ve moved on to her helmet when she speaks up.

“You know, cleaning someone’s armor is considered _very_ forward for Mandalorians,” she says from the shower.

Glancing up, you give her a sly smirk, taking a moment to appreciate her naked curves, glistening and dewy from her shower.

“I had no idea,” you say in mock-innocence, even as you continue polishing the outside of her helmet.

You have no idea how she deals with the electronics on the inside, so you’ll leave that for her. She rolls her eyes.

“Come on,” she says. “I need you to uh…rub my shoulders.”

You put the helmet aside, smirking as you strip the rest of your clothes off.

“Yes, ma’am,” you say, kicking your clothes under the counter.

You slide into the bath behind her, purring in delight as she settles between your thighs, her back up against your chest. Wrapping your arms around her middle, you rest your head on her shoulder, sighing with pleasure.

“Did I die and go to the Manda?” she asks in a joking sort of tone, her hand drifting down to cover your knee. You kiss the side of her neck.

“Not sure,” you sigh sleepily. “But if we’re here together…count me in.”

She laughs, squeezing your knee. You stroke her belly, skimming your fingers up to her breasts. Cupping them, you pinch her nipples between your fingers.

“What are you doing?” she asks. You can _feel_ her brow go up.

“Making sure you are squeaky clean,” you say with a straight face. “These feel nice and clean.”

She laughs again.

“Good to know,” she says. “I’ve got something else you can check.”

Kissing her neck, you skim one palm over her ribs, tracing the plane of her belly down between her legs. She sighs softly as you find her clit, fingers just grazing over her folds. You kiss your way up to her earlobe, nipping as your fingers find that rhythm she enjoys, working her closer to orgasm but never letting her reach that peak. You keep her there in the bath until the water cools and she’s whining for release. Biting a little more firmly at her neck, you squeeze her hip.

“Let’s get dried off,” you say. “Then I want you on the bed with this pussy ready for me to eat, alright?”

She hums in pleasure, “How could I say no to that?”

The two of you dry off and retire to the bedroom, where she reclines on the bed, knees spread invitingly. Kneeling between them, you press a kiss to her clit. Already, she’s soaking wet. As she lifts her hips, you slide two fingers into her, smirking at the low cry she lets out. Slowly, you work your fingers in and out of her, relishing in each moan. With just a few more laps of your tongue, she crests, her inner walls squeezing around your fingers greedily.

She sighs as she relaxes, thighs falling open on the bed. You press a kiss to her clit as you pull your fingers out. Crawling onto the bed with her, you turn to face her. She pounces and the two of you tumble down onto the bedding, ready to spend the next thirty-something hours in each others’ arms.


	12. Hunter & Prey/NC-17/OC: Dezha x GN!Reader

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Pairing:** OC: Dezha x GN!Reader  
>  **Wordcount:** ~1100  
>  **Rating:** NC-17  
>  **Warnings:** Hunter/prey kink.  
>  **Author’s Notes:** Dezha is an OC of mine from A Proper Mandalorian Courtship.
> 
> **[Posted on tumblr @anxiety-riddled-mando on 12/06/2020.]**

Dezha never wanted to be Alor. He was happy just hunting and providing for his Tribe. Then someone got it into their heads that he would make a good leader. He resisted the idea from the start, reminding them all about his… shortcomings. He knows he’s not all that smart. He has made very questionable decisions. Over and over, he tried to get out of making life-altering decisions for the Tribe. But no one listened, and he was shoved right into the role of Alor.

Now, about ten years later, he feels somewhat comfortable with his position, but he hates the distance it puts between him and the rest of the Tribe. Before, he had no problem with propositioning someone, but now? He is terrified that he might accidentally make someone feel obliged to accept his advances. So, he refuses to get involved with anyone past flirtation, even when the Elders get on his case about “marrying and setting a good example for the young hunters”.

One day, he finds himself summoned to the Forge for a “very important discussion”. He knows this involves one of three things: something expensive is broken, a fight has gotten out of hand, or his unmarried state. He is willing to bet it’s the last one, considering there hasn’t been a wedding in nearly three years. As soon as he steps into the Forge, someone shuts the door behind him. He sits down with the Elders and Armorer, dropping his helmet on the floor between his knees.

They are to the point with him – his unmarried state is unacceptable. They’ve begun looking for potential matches for him. They are letting him know as a courtesy that he has to select a _riduur_ , or they will be matching him without any regard to his preferences. Dezha may not be the brightest Mandalorian in the Tribe, but he does know how to hold them off. He announces his stipulations.

Anyone who can best him in a hunt will have him in marriage. He of course, adds further stipulations – they must be within ten years of him by age, they must be willing to raise warriors with him, and they must be willing to take part in the hunt itself. When the announcement goes out, he finds himself swamped with people who want to marry him. He finds it kind of flattering, even if Jalyn swoons into his arms and pretends to faint in order to mock him.

It’s been almost a year now, and no one has lasted more than an hour against him.

Dezha crouches to examine the trail he’s been following for the past twenty minutes. He’s been tracking this deer for a few hours now. With winter coming, the Tribe will need plenty of food in storage to get through the long blizzards that plague Marell every season. They are at comfortable levels right now, but he doesn’t think they can ever have too much food in storage. Especially with the addition of the Nevarro Tribe to their ranks. He sighs and gets to his feet.

He hears a branch crack in the distance. Instantly, every sense is on full alert. A soft sigh of wind rises in the branches, sending detritus skittering across the forest floor. Dezha turns his scanning software up as high as it will go. He sees nothing. He continues forward cautiously, every cell in his body attuned to the odd sound he had heard. When the wind dies down, he hears the quietest scuffle, like gravel under a heavy footstep. Dezha scans his surroundings once more. This time, he notices a broken branch and some newly disturbed foliage.

He goes to investigate, creeping forward carefully. He finds a single footprint. Interesting, he thinks to himself, crouching down to examine it. Water’s still seeping into the tracks, meaning this footprint is only moments old. It’s a medium size footprint, moderate depth. About expected for an armored Mandalorian. _Curious_.

He heads deeper into the forest where the trails are harder to navigate, keeping his eyes scanning the canopy above and the ground below his feet, searching for any clue he can use to identify his pursuer. Dezha has to admit that he finds the situation thrilling. There aren’t many who can keep up with him as he tracks prey. There are even fewer who can evade _him_ while he is on the hunt. Dezha picks up the pace, following the trail his pursuer had left for him.

He’s impressed with how careful they have been to avoid detection. They even laid a fake trail for him to cover their tracks. It almost fooled him until he noticed the depth of the tracks had changed, as if trying to distract him. The game of hunter and prey continues for hours as he forgets the deer he had been looking for, leading him on a merry chase through the forest and valley that surrounded their home.

At long last, when he’s drawing to the end of his patience, he sees a tiny flicker of movement deep in the brush. He circles around to try and pinpoint their location. When he sees them move again, he springs, his heart leaping in triumph. All to late, he realizes it’s a trap. He reaches up and plucks the scrap of fabric off the branch, a broad smile spreading across his face. He hears another branch break and turns.

When he sees you come into view, he tilts his head in acknowledgment of your skill.

“How?” he asks.

You tilt your helmet slightly.

“I’ve been watching you all year,” you admit shyly. “Seeing how you evaded the others. Learning what you know. Hoping I might be able to win.”

He offers his hand. You take it and he pulls you toward him.

“To the winner go the spoils of victory,” he murmurs, pressing his forehead to yours. “And I could not have chosen a better partner than you.”

The walk back to the hideout takes several hours, but he doesn’t mind it. The two of you spend it talking and getting to know each other a little better. As _Alor_ , he’s kept a vast distance between himself and others. He’s happy with your intelligence – you _definitely_ outrank him there – and your desire for offspring. He knows you’re a hard worker. Your commitment to providing for the Tribe is unparalleled. All to soon, the two of you are striding back indoors, and he’s firmly cemented his decision to marry you.

That night, the two of you swap vows, and he presses his forehead to yours in a kiss, letting everyone know that _you_ had finally been the hunter to outsmart him.


	13. Masturbation/NC-17/Kreez Vac

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Pairing:** Kreez Vac x memories of his beloved Sanbras  
>  **Wordcount:**  
>  **Rating:** NC-17  
>  **Warnings:** Masturbation, angst  
>  **Author’s Note:** Kreez Vac belongs to the lovely @maggie_goldenstar1530.
> 
> **[Posted on tumblr @anxiety-riddled-mando on 12/06/2020.]**

Kreez rests his head against the wall, the cool tile a sharp contrast to the billowing clouds of steam rising up around him. It has been so, so long since he last had a moment to himself like this. Since he last took care of his physical needs. Sure, there have been opportunities over the years. There have been fine warriors who have caught his eye, and vice versa. They were always like that first squeeze of citrus into the pan, bright and crisp, yet those sweet moments always faded away, leaving behind only a lingering hint of sweetness.

There has never been anyone like you, his beloved Sanbras; someone with kisses like freshly picked _phekee-mirch_ , tattooing his heart and soul with lips that burn like afternoon sunlight. Closing his eyes, he lets his hand fall to his cock. It bobs against his palm. How long has it been since he last took care of himself? Weeks? Months? Or is it closer to a year? At this point, he can’t remember. And he doesn’t want to remember. Kreez starts with long slow pulls, exhaling shakily as he thumbs the head of his cock.

He remembers the first time he saw you, the way his breath caught in his throat. You had been leaning against a pillar, relaxed, one hand holding the bag of dates and the other at your hip. Kreez remembers the way the sunlight trickled through the palm leaves and dotted your upturned face with flecks of gold. He had been so distracted by your overwhelming presence that he had not seen the raised edge on the paver. His foot caught on the edge and he stumbled, nearly falling flat on his face. With a smile as bright as _sont_ and piercing as _laug_ , you reached out a hand and helped him back up. He hoped you wouldn’t notice, but you did. You noticed him the same way you noticed the subtle notes of _dal’chi’nee_ in his tea, and you always made sure Kreez knew that.

He remembers the first time you touched him. Kreez was used to not being noticed – especially not by someone like you, someone with such gentle eyes and a smile as sweet and intoxicating as honeyed wine. Kreez remembers the way you listened to him babble about his line of work, nodding in all the right places. He remembers the gentle, pensive look on your face while he went off on a tangent about the merits of cooking with whole spices.

At first, he mistook that look as you merely indulging him, so Kreez had stammered out an apology for wasting your time. And then you looked at him, that gentle smile growing just a bit softer, and you reached out. _“You could never waste my time, Kreez_ ,” you whispered. And when your fingers brushed up against his arm, it was pure _gada_ – his eyes watered, and his throat swelled. Before the giddiness could turn to pain, you drew back, letting that fierce bite fade into pleasant tingling.

He remembers the first time you kissed him. He remembers the soft, dry warmth of your lips against the corner of his mouth. He remembers the way his knees shook when you wrapped one strong arm around his waist and pressed him against the wall. The sting of your teeth digging into his lip. He remembers the heady, dizzying rush that followed. You were like the sweetest _tihaar,_ potent as you coursed through his veins and filled him with mind-numbing heat.

It’s the memory of that first kiss that breaks him. With one more firm stroke, he finishes, and he trembles his way through his orgasm. As he regains his bearings, he exhales shakily, watching as the water swirls around the drain. The water feels cold now. He remembers now why he doesn’t do this often. This kind of pleasure is like eating spun sugar. The sweetness satisfies him, but only temporarily. Nothing can ever really satisfy his aching hunger for your touch. He longs for you. His guiding star in the darkness of night. His beloved Sanbras.

Kreez closes his eyes as that bittersweet ache settles between his ribs once more. Reaching up, he turns off the spray. These memories will be enough until he follows you home one day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Notes** on this section: Maggie has translated some herbs, spices, and other flavorings for her fic and has allowed me to borrow her list. My only contribution here is ghost pepper. Everything else is Maggie’s hard work! Tihaar is Mando’a.  
> phekee mirch – ghost pepper  
> sont – ginger  
> laug – cloves  
> dal’chi’nee – cinnamon  
> gada – mace  
> tihaar – liquor


	14. Rough Sex/NC-17/OC: Sadet x f!Reader

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Pairing:** Sadet x f!Reader  
>  **Wordcount:** ~3000  
>  **Rating:** NC-17  
>  **Warnings:** Rough sex, PWP  
>  **Author’s Note:** Sadet belongs to the lovely @maggie_goldenstar1530.
> 
> **[Posted on tumblr @anxiety-riddled-mando on 12/06/2020.]**

Sadet of the Samaki Tribe is a master of his craft and takes great pride in the quality of his work. That being said…he knows he has a bit of a temper…especially when he’s got a tray _full of molten_ _beskar_ in his hands and _some idiot_ decides they need him to fix a problem of _their own fucking making_. He has, however, learned how to manage his temper, and a growl is usually enough to deter everyone but the colossally stupid.

One day, he finds himself in a horrendous mood – he’s barely slept and he has a headache forming right behind his eyes. He has no idea what has gotten into his _vode_ , but some of them seem to have gotten more reckless (and possibly stupider) than usual. After popping a few pain pills, he gets to work, and everything goes fucking sideways before he can even open up shop. The two idiots by the door shuffle in at his barked order. When they come into view in the light, he can only gape at the sheer amount of damage to the plates. One tries to speak but he shuts them right up with a single raised hand.

“Leave it all here,” he says flatly.

The two idiots strip off their damaged plates and leave them on the table while he’s opening the gas lines. They’re gone by the time he is finished, leaving him to _blessed peace and quiet._ Sadet begins opening up the plates to see what he needs to do. When he sees the shattered electronics inside, he lets out a noise much like a strill’s whine. He’s going to be here all. fucking. night. There go his plans of a restful night tonight. He sighs and goes to collect his tools. He pauses at the battered cookie tin on the bench.

Someone has been leaving little gifts for him. The first offering had been a piece of metal that went straight into the recycling bin to be melted down for later use. The second offering was a shiny rock of some kind. Sadet had almost thrown it out, but he found that he rather liked the pretty purple geode. The third offering was a small electronic component – one that he definitely had needed at the time. And so, the offerings showed up at least once a week. He hasn’t been able to catch whoever it was, but at least the offerings were useful sometimes. Now he has a tin full of shiny bits and pieces. He glances over at the induction forge, where the offerings are usually left. Nothing. Hm. It’s been about a week since the last one. Maybe they’ll drop by tonight.

As predicted, the repairs take the entire day. It isn’t until late that night that he finds himself at a stopping point. He goes into his storage closet to find some spare gold for the connectors. As he comes out, he sees movement at the doorway, and he freezes. Then he draws back into the shadows. Someone steps into the forge. They look around before creeping in. Sadet feels his brow furrow as you tiptoe toward the induction furnace. He inhales.

Then he moves silently, sneaking around behind you to shut the door. As you dig something out of your pocket, he comes up behind you. He falters as he tries to decide what he’s going to do. He doesn’t _know_ what to do – he’s never been in this situation before. So, he settles for folding his arms across his chest. Then you happen to check behind yourself. When you notice his presence, you jump straight into the air, a little noise of surprise escaping you.

 _“You_ ,” he growls, coming forward a step.

You let out a pathetic squeaking noise. With each step he advances, you retreat. But he steers you right into the corner, where you are trapped between him and the wall.

“What are you doing?” he demands, putting his hands on his hips and leaning forward just a bit. You let out another squeaking noise.

“I wanted to borrow…a hammer,” you stammer out. “Just – uh, didn’t want – to disturb you?”

Sadet tilts his helmet, leaning forward a tiny bit more. You let out another _eep_.

“A hammer,” he repeats flatly. “You wanted to borrow a hammer.”

You nod enthusiastically. He lets the silence hang.

“You are the worst liar I have ever met,” he says flatly.

You stammer for a moment before falling silent. Then you sigh heavily, your shoulders sagging.

“I wanted to leave this for you.”

You hold up the small box. Sadet takes it from you. He lifts the lid. His brow furrows at the little sachets of tea.

“What is this for?” he asks, his voice a little quieter than before.

“I figured you weren’t feeling well,” you mutter, not looking up at him.

“And what would you know about that?” he asks, tilting his helmet questioningly. He doesn’t remember telling anyone about his headache.

“You were hammering a lot louder than normal,” you whisper, “You only do that when your audials are off…and…and the rhythm was off. I figured you weren’t feeling well.”

He blinks at your assessment. You lift your hands placatingly.

“I just realized how weird that sounds now that have I said it out loud…I didn’t mean it in a weird way, I swear that to you, it’s just – I’m used to hearing you working, and when something’s wrong, it just kind of throws everything off around the place? Oh, gods, I’m making this worse, aren’t I – Sadet, I _swear_ – “

He lets out a huff of laughter. Your explanation falls silent as you finally look up at him, head tilted slightly to the side in a show of confusion. If it was anyone else, he would feel weird about that. But you? He knows you’re observant, and even though you’re a bit weird, he knows you’re trying to show him you care.

“Thank you for the tea,” he says. “That doesn’t explain the rocks.”

You let out a noise he can’t decipher.

“…gifts?” you offer.

“Try again,” he says patiently, enjoying the way you squirm against the wall.

“I…Ilikeyoualot,” you blurt out.

Sadet can’t help the laugh that escapes him. All this? To let him know you have feelings for him? Your head hangs and he realizes that laughing probably wasn’t the right thing to do. He stops you with one hand on the wall, right next to your shoulder.

“All you had to do was tell me,” he says, “You didn’t have to go through all _this_ , you know.”

“I didn’t know what to say,” you respond, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. “I’m not good with words, okay?”

“You aren’t,” he agrees, another laugh escaping him. “But it’s okay, I don’t mind.”

“So…uh…you’re not mad?” you squeak out.

“Not at you,” he says. He hears your sigh of relief. “Now…what do I do with you?”

Your head shoots up.

“Do…with me?” you ask.

Sadet hums, leaning in even closer, fingers rising to tilt your helmet up toward his.

“I wouldn’t want you to think that I don’t appreciate your gifts,” he purrs.

You stammer as his hands slide down either side of you.

“How do you want me to show you my appreciation?” he asks, watching as your chest starts to heave. “Do you want me to sit you on the edge of the forge? Get down on my knees and lick your pussy until you scream for me?” His hands trace along your breast plate up to the shoulders, where he deactivates the latching mechanisms. “Spread you out on my worktable and fuck you slowly, until you cry and beg for mercy?” He drops your breast plate onto a crate and starts working on your pauldrons. “How about I fuck you right here? Holding you up against the wall, driving into you until you come undone?”

“Yes,” you say, “ _Yes_.”

“Good answer,” he rumbles. He lifts his hands, “May I – ?” You nod as his fingers hover over your cheek plates. He carefully lifts your helmet up. You shake your hair out and reach up for his helmet.

“Can I?” you ask shyly.

Sadet nods. He crouches down a bit so you can get it off without dropping it on his head. You get his helmet off and place it on the crate next to your armor. The first kiss is exploratory, almost shy. Soon you’re up on your toes, arms laced around his neck, and he’s starting to think he’s going to need a step stool for you to stand on for these kisses. He breaks away for a moment before wrapping his arms around you. Sadet _really_ likes the way your legs wrap around his waist when he lifts you up.

Carrying you to the forge, he sets you down on the edge. It’s still pleasantly warm from the day’s work. Your top is open, hanging down around your elbows, as you work on getting your trousers off. Sadet gets your boots off and tosses them over his shoulder carelessly, not giving a _kriff_ as a large pile of something clatters to the floor. You wrestle your arms out of the shirt and toss it away. Then your bra follows. Sadet simply rips the panties off you, ignoring your horrified gasp as he falls to his knees. Once there, he pushes your legs apart roughly, groaning at the sight that meets him.

Greedily, he flicks his tongue against your swollen clit, smirking as your legs twitch. Fuck, it’s been so, _so_ long since he’s last had a woman like this, spread out and whimpering _Sadet please don’t stop_. He traces the tip of his togue from your entrance to your pearl, smiling at your throaty moan as he stimulates that sensitive bundle of nerves. Your hand falls to his head and pulls him in closer. He closes his eyes, teasing you until he hears your voice break.

“S-Sadet,” you gasp out. “ _Please_ – s-so close, I’m gonna co-come!”

There will be plenty of time later for him to tease you. Right now, he’s hard as beskar and he wants to be inside you. He uses the flat of his tongue this time, hungrily lapping up each bead of nectar that he finds. You’re past coherency at this point, your little _mores_ and _pleases_ like music to his ears. With one more swipe of his tongue against you, your fingers dig into his scalp, your hips nearly lifting off the edge of the forge as you come. Sadet laps his tongue against you a few times, feeling as you tap your fingers against the back of his head, your thighs tightening around him.

He gives you a little bit to regain your senses. Then he stands up. The forge is at the right height to fuck you on, but you have no support for your back. He’s not interested in trying any new acrobatics right now, so he lifts you back up and carries you to his work table, using one arm to sweep everything but his hammer off the table. You start pulling pieces of his armor off. Some of it lands on the table; other parts hit the floor with heavy thuds. You start working on his flak vest as he unfastens his trousers. Once his cock his free, he pulls your hips to the edge of the table, grinning at the little _eep_ that escapes you. Sadet pins your hands down by your ears, grinding his length against you. He watches as your eyes drift shut and your teeth dig into your lower lip, a breathy sigh escaping you as you match his pace.

Parting your knees, Sadet grasps himself and guides himself into your channel. He can’t hold back his moans as he inches in slowly, never pushing you too far, always keeping his eyes on your face to make sure he’s not hurting you. You dig your nails into his forearm, and he pauses, watching as your chest heaves.

“You alright?” he asks.

“Slow, i-its been a wh-while,” you manage to say.

The last thing he wants to do is hurt you, so he pauses, giving you as much time as you need to adjust to him.

“So-sorry,” you say but he cuts you off.

“The only things I wanna hear are _yes_ and _more_ and _harder_ ,” he says firmly. “If I hurt you, I want you to tell me. Are we clear?”

You nod, hair already sticking to your forehead. Once you dig your heels into his backside, he starts a very slow, rolling pace, never pulling out too far. He’s rewarded with the sight of your eyes rolling back in your head and your back arching off the table.

“Oh, _fuuuuck_ ,” you whine. “Oh, fuck, oh fuck – yes, Sadet – oh gods you feel so f-fucking good – “

He maintains that slow pace, watching as you twist and contort under him to meet each thrust. Once he’s sure you can take it, he starts to increase his pace and force, skimming his hand from your hips up to your waist. He traces along the swell of your rib cage before he grabs your breast, groaning at the handful of soft, plump flesh under his fingers. As he watches your curves bounce, he realizes he’s close to finishing, his balls aching for release.

“Getting close,” he grunts out. “Where do you want me to – “

“Inside,” you gasp out. “Safe.”

He can feel your pussy squeezing around him. Your drop your hand between your legs, stroking your clit with quick little circles, your cries growing louder and louder. He hits that point where he’s not sure he can last any longer for you. Blessedly, you tighten your legs around him, sucking in a deep breath and you come, a shrill _Sadet_ falling from your lips. He lets go, surrendering to the bliss of climax. He grinds into you, panting as he unloads. Sadet stutters to a halt, heart thudding uncomfortably in his chest. Your hand snakes down to his and squeezes his, your ankles still locked behind his back. He shifts inside you, still hard.

“Wall?” you ask hoarsely, quirking your lips up at him.

Sadet doesn’t hesitate. He scoops one arm under you and carries you to the wall. You loop your arms around his neck, while he maneuvers your legs over his forearms, spreading you wide open. He lowers you onto his cock, watching as your mouth drops open. He slides in with a firm thrust, biting down on your lower lip in a bruising kiss and swallowing the wail that escapes you. There’s no way he’s going to finish like this, so he just watches you. Sadet has compared his hammer to an instrument, a drum that plays the song that resonates within every Mandalorian heart. Now, here, with you in his arms, he truly considers himself a musician, as he catalogues each and every note that each roll of his hips coax out of you.

It doesn’t take long before you’re falling apart for him again, your cries of pleasure devolving into little choked whimpers. He loves the sight of you like this – your eyes glazed over and your body slick with sweat. It doesn’t take long before you’re squirming in his arms, little gasps escaping you, fingernails digging into his shoulders. He ignores the burning in his shoulders and arms, driving into your sweet, welcoming heat over and over until you sob, your head falling back against the wall. When your sobs fade into pants, he bites down on the meat of your shoulder.

“How-how are you still hard?” you mumble into his pectoral.

He laughs.

“Didn’t cum,” he says.

You give him a wide-eyed look of surprise. Then he shifts you in his arms, cock still embedded firmly inside you as you lock your legs around his waist. Sadet carries you to the door on the far wall and kicks it open, carrying you into his bedroom. He lowers you onto the bed, spreading your thighs with his hands, and smirks.

“My turn,” he says.

* * *

Cuan strides toward the foundry. As he comes into view of the door, he finds two of his _vode_ standing there. He glances at them, noting that they are not wearing their armor.

“Repairs?” he asks with an exasperated sigh.

“Yeah,” the one on the left said. “Problem is…uh…Sadet’s not answering?”

Cuan tilts his helmet in a show of curiosity.

“And it’s way past his normal hours,” the other says.

“Let me guess,” Cuan says. “You two cowards are trying to figure out who’s going to open the door?”

“We are not _cowards_ ,” the one on the left retorts. “It’s called having a self-preservation instinct.”

Cuan snorts.

“I’ll look,” Cuan says with a shrug.

He cracks the door open and his brow furrows. The foundry is a mess. There are tools scattered on the floor. One of the tables is overturned. Boots in the corner. Cuan blinks. Boots? He notices the pile of armor – Sadet-shaped armor – on the floor at the same time that the blacksmith comes into view.

Naked.

 _Completely naked_.

Sadet sees _him_. He covers his privates with a shirt too small to be his. Cuan looks at the forge, where he can see a lacy bra hanging off the vents. Then he glances down at the _other_ set of armor scattered on the floor. Slowly, without a word, Cuan reaches around to the backside of the door and flicks the locking mechanism. Then he pulls the door shut behind him with a loud _click_. He wants to pretend he did not see _any_ of that.

“So, what’s going on?”

Cuan fumbles for a moment but decides to cover for Sadet. He owes him, anyway.

“He dropped a toolbox,” he says loudly, to ensure Sadet can hear. “There are parts everywhere. Lots of small parts everywhere. He’s going to need some time to clean up.”

“Oh. Glad it wasn’t one of us who made a mess in there.”

“Oh, yeah,” Cuan agrees. “Let’s go get some caff. I heard Kreez has a new blend…”

Cuan thinks that it’s about damn time that Sadet takes some time for himself.


	15. Somnophilia/NC-17/Din Djarin x f!Reader

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Pairing:** Din Djarin x f!Reader  
>  **Wordcount:** ~900  
>  **Rating:** NC-17  
>  **Warnings:** V light somnophilia, oral sex, unprotected sex  
>  **Author’s Note:** Din is basically falling asleep, but not completely asleep.
> 
> **[Posted on tumblr @anxiety-riddled-mando on 11/27/2020.]**

Din’s passed out on the bed, one leg dangling over the edge, sock laying forgotten on his belly. His latest hunt had pushed him to the brink, to the point where he had been dozing off in the shower. You guided your _riduur_ out and to the bed. In the time it took for you to go get him some clean pajamas, he had passed out. You found whatever space you could next to him and drifted off. Now, it’s well past his normal wake-up time.

It has been so long since you last had him like this. With the number of children you two have, sex doesn’t happen nearly often enough for either of you – it’s usually a rushed, frantic affair with him bending you over something in a closet with your pants around your knees. This is the first time you and Din have been alone in _months_. You send a quick _thank you_ up to the sky for having Uncle Paz to take the horde off your hands.

Now you’ll shamelessly take advantage of the opportunity granted to you.

Sliding onto the soft, cushioned surface, you press your hand against his thigh and squeeze. Din grunts sleepily and shifts a bit, turning his head in the other direction. You slide your hand up further, watching as his eyes finally crack open.

“What are you doin’?” he asks hoarsely.

“Waking you up,” you say sweetly. Before he can respond, you cup his testicles with one hand and squeeze lightly.

“That’s going to wake me up more than anything else,” he says with a quirk of his lips.

“Relax, _cyare_. Let me take care of you. Please?”

“Do what you will with me. I’m at your mercy,” he murmurs.

Smiling, you get to work, gently stroking his body.

He mumbles something as his cock begins to stiffen. For a few moments, you stroke lightly and watch as he closes his eyes again. Once he’s fully erect, you lean in and kiss him gently right on the very tip, feeling as his cock twitches in response. Slowly, you work your way down his shaft, pressing sweet little kisses against the silky-soft skin there, one hand cupping his balls and the other holding his shaft steady.

When you reach the base, you kiss your way up the other side, smiling as he shifts and sighs under your fingers. You wait until he relaxes. Then you take him into your mouth, your eyes drifting shut with pleasure as he moans and shifts. As you take him in a little deeper with each bob of your head, you let your saliva coat his cock generously. You keep your pace slow, one hand squeezing the base of his shaft gently and the other massaging his balls gently.

Occasionally, a fine tremor will wrack his body, and you draw back, letting his orgasm subside. You don’t want him to come too quickly. You want to take your time and really savor the taste of his cock in your mouth. Drawing back, you watch as a pearly little droplet of precum oozes out. You let your tongue dart out and lick it up, smiling when he shivers. When you’ve reached your limits, you crawl back up his body, kissing your way along his hip and that delectable line of hair leading up to his belly button. There, you blow a little raspberry against his tummy, earning yourself a sleepy giggle in response. Then you straddle his hips and Din’s eyes crack open a bit. You steady his cock under you and start to sink down, sighing with pleasure.

You take him in one smooth thrust, your eyes rolling back as he spreads your walls open, filling you with that delicious ache that you feel in your stomach. As Din groans softly, you rock your hips in slow, little circles, grinding your clit down against his pubic bone. Finally, Din’s hands rise to your hips, squeezing gently as he opens his eyes, watching your every move.

When your pace starts to quicken and stutter, he tilts his hips, angling his cock into that spot inside you that makes you _moan_ and your toes curl. Leaning your weight onto his tummy, you start move faster, taking him hard and deep with each grind of your hips against his. Din just watches you with those deep, caramel eyes of his, and you just know he’s cataloguing every face you make, every sound you let out. When you throw your head back and moan, he _finally_ acts, hands pulling you down onto him as he starts to thrust, making your tits bounce even harder.

One thumb drifts down to your clit and you are _done_ , hitting your peak and crying out Din’s name. Your entire body curls forward as your brain short-circuits, your walls milking every drop out of his cock. Once your body stops shaking and you can actually think, you smile up at Din and press a kiss to his lips.

“Good morning, _cyare,_ ” you whisper hoarsely.

“Good morning to you too, _cyare_ ,” he says, smiling at you. “That was a hell of a wakeup.”

Before you can answer, you hear the sound of little fists pounding on the door. You purse your lips at Din and grab your pants off the floor. Pulling them on, you sigh.

“Maybe later,” Din says, grabbing his own pants. He grins. “I think Paz could be convinced to take them again.”

The door bursts open just as you come out of the bedroom. Quickly, you kick the door shut so Din won’t be seen by anyone else. The children stampede into the room, shouting gleefully upon seeing you. They swarm you like a tiny horde of locusts, eager for your attention. Then Paz steps in and you can’t help but to snort at the pink paint on his armor.

Maybe he won’t be as willing to take the kids a second night.


	16. Hunter & Prey 2/NC-17/OC: Dezha x f!Reader

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Pairing:** OC: Dezha x f!Reader  
>  **Wordcount:** ~1500  
>  **Rating:** NC-17  
>  **Warnings:** Hunter & prey kink, thigh-riding  
>  **Author’s Note:** Din is basically falling asleep, but not completely asleep.
> 
> **[Posted on tumblr @anxiety-riddled-mando on 11/27/2020.]**

Striding down the hallway, you feel a prickle of unease along the back of your neck. You know you are being watched, but you do not know by whom. You continue to your destination, _feeling_ as your watcher keeps their distance from you, always just out of sight.

Ducking down another corridor, you double back on your trail, hoping to lose them. Unfortunately, it fails to work. When you find yourself cut off again, you pick a random direction, a grin crossing your face.

There’s only one hunter in this Tribe with the ability to get into their prey’s head, anticipate their every move before they even make them. You duck into a storage room and hide behind the door, a measure of arousal filling your belly as you wait for him to stride by. Moments later, Dezha edges along the wall, every sense attuned to the hunt. A grin splits your face as you give him a few seconds. Then you start to hunt _him._

He _knows_ , of course, but he indulges you, leading you on a merry chase through the many abandoned hallways underneath the Tribe hideout. Encouraging you to play with him, to hone your skill as a true hunter with every purposeful footstep and disturbed piece of paper. Sometimes he leaves a door ajar to test your memory. Other times, he plays with the lights to throw you off. But you stick to his trail, trying to anticipate where he will go next.

He tricks you sometimes, but you start discovering the ruses, dealing with them appropriately. Sometimes, you just wipe the dust off the wall so he can’t try to lead you astray. Other times, you just steal the things he has left behind, hoping that he will eventually run out. Finally, you start closing the distance, and he tries turning the tables back on you.

This time, you hold your ground and continue advancing. You know he is in one of three rooms, but you don’t know which one. If you pick the wrong one, he will be able to escape and start the chase all over again. No matter how exhilarating the hunt is, your arousal has spiraled and tightened to the snapping point.

You head toward the nearest one before you stop dead in your tracks. Dezha would not have brought you down here if he intended for this to be _only_ a lesson in hunting and evasion. That room is completely bare and has two entrance points. Too open for him to lower his guard enough for anything remotely sexual. The second-closest room has no doors. That leaves the furthest one. Well-hidden, clean, and a door.

Nodding to yourself, you jog toward your target, keeping a careful watch in case he decides to spring a surprise on you. When you make it there with no interruptions, you slip in, seeking out your hunter with hazy, lust-filled eyes. To your immense disappointment, the room is empty, save for the chair in the middle of the room.

Just as you are about to leave, you feel it. Someone coming up behind you, sending a tingling prickle of waves up your spine. _Dezha_. His name almost falls from your lips in a moan as the door clicks shut behind you. You turn to him, watching as he circles around you to the armchair. He sinks down. Deliberately, he pats his knee twice.

“Come here, _girl_ ,” he purrs.

Every defense melts away as you obey, moving forward to straddle one powerful thigh between your knees.

“We can stop at any time,” he says softly. “Do you understand?”

Wide-eyed, you nod. He lifts a brow at you expectantly.

“Yes, sir,” you confirm. “We can stop at any time.”

“Take my helmet off,” he says in that same soft voice.

You reach up and remove it, biting your lip at the sight of his chocolate-brown eyes. Leaning over, you place it on the ground.

“Would you like to take yours off?” he asks.

Still unable to speak, you just nod. He gives you an expectant look, lifting a brow.

“Yes, sir,” you whisper.

“Good girl,” he responds. “May I, or would you like to do it yourself?”

“You,” you stutter out. “Please…please take my helmet off, _alor_.”

“Alright,” he says, reaching up.

His fingers hesitate over your helmet. Slowly, he presses his fingers into the indentations on your cheek plates and lifts up. A noise of delight escapes him as he sees your face. You give him a few moments to put your helmet down before you kiss him. Dezha seems a little surprised by your urgency, but he doesn’t stop you. He crushes you against his chest, one big firm hand coming to rest on your backside. A little mewl escapes you as he squeezes firmly. You feel him smile against your lips.

As you deepen the kiss, you dig your fingers into his short hair and tug a big, rocking your hips as you grind against his cuisse. He breaks away, his head falling back on the chair, as he pants for breath.

“Barely gotten started,” he rasps out. “Already grinding up on me, sweet girl.”

“ _Alor_ ,” you mewl, letting your head fall forward onto his shoulder. “ _Please_ …”

“Fuck,” he groans. “I love the sound of your voice. Love hearing those little sounds you’re making…”

An embarrassed squeak leaves you as he starts guiding your pace on his thigh, pressing you down onto him for more friction. Leaning in, he kisses his way along the column of your throat, occasionally pausing to kiss and bite.

“Bet you’re making a mess in your panties, sweet girl,” he murmurs. “Getting them all wet and slick, huh?”

You shake in his arms, your breath coming in short pants as his strong hands keep you from moving any faster. He licks your pulse point, a little laugh escaping him as you grind down and moan for him.

“There we go,” he soothes. “Just like that. Take it slow, let it build…”

You can just feel the throbbing length of his cock straining against his pantleg and you whine impatiently.

“Like what you feel?” he asks softly.

“Y-yes, _alor_ ,” you whisper. “It’s so hard, s-so thick.”

“If you’re a good girl, I’ll put it inside you,” he says. “I’ll let you come on my cock as many times as you want.”

“ _Alor_ ,” you sob against his neck, pace breaking a bit your cunt starts to throb. “ _Please_.”

He reaches up and buries his fingers in your hair. He pulls back, exposing the column of your throat. He kisses lightly, drawing soft whines and whimpers from your throat.

“I am going to take these pants off you,” he says softly, as if discussing the weather with you. “Then I’m going to slide my cock right into your hungry pussy.”

You try to nod but his grip’s too tight.

“Yes, _alor_ ,” you choke out.

“While I’m fucking you, I want you to make a mess all over my cock. Can you do that for me?”

“Y-yes, _alor_ , I-I can – “

Stars seem to burst behind your eyes as he guides you faster on his cuisse, finally allowing you to choose your pace.

“Good girl,” he says. “I want your slick running down _my_ thighs. Does your pussy ache for me yet?”

You nod, gasping as you start to reach your peak, pace growing uneven and jerky.

“Alright, there we go,” he rumbles soothingly. “Getting real close, aren’t you?”

You nod, too far gone to speak. Just a little more, you think to yourself, just a little more friction.

“When I’m dripping wet and coated in your slick, I’m going to make _such_ a mess in you,” he whispers into your ear. “Then I’m going to get down on my knees and clean our mess up with my mouth – “

The thought of Dezha’s mouth on your cunt breaks you and you come, a high-pitched noise escaping you. Dezha wraps his arm around you, shushing you as you shake in his arms.

“Shh, there we go,” he whispers. “You did so good. You look so fucking good while you’re coming.”

His hand strokes your back gently as you rock against him a few more times, drawing out those last few twinges of orgasm. Then you collapse against him, your body boneless with pleasure. Dezha kisses your temple and holds you close, letting you rest against him. When your heart rate finally returns to normal, you lean up and start nibbling along his jaw. He strokes a strand of sweaty hair back before leaning in for a kiss.

“Ready to show me the mess you’ve made for me?” he drawls out, a smirk on his lips.

“Yes, _alor_ ,” you say.

“ _Good girl._ ”


End file.
